


The Devil-and-All to Pay

by Leela



Category: Harry Potter - Rowling
Genre: Animagus, Community: help_haiti, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-03-31
Updated: 2010-03-31
Packaged: 2017-10-08 13:49:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,177
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/76278
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Leela/pseuds/Leela
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Albus Dumbledore is mad. Severus is sure of it, when the old man sends him to persuade Sirius Black to come back to England and let the Order use his family home as headquarters. The problem, as always, is that Severus cannot say no.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Devil-and-All to Pay

**Author's Note:**

  * For [myheartinhiding](https://archiveofourown.org/users/myheartinhiding/gifts).



> **Betas:** R Grayjoy and Eeyore9990
> 
> Written for myheartinhiding for her generous bid for my writing services (and donation) on behalf of help_haiti on livejournal. She was patient and understanding when life happened, and I needed a brief extension.

"Are you out of your ever loving mind?" Severus Snape rested his knuckles on Albus Dumbledore's desk and glared at him. "What in Merlin's name makes you think that Sirius Black would listen to _me_?"

"Why wouldn't he?" Dumbledore picked up another lemon drop and popped it into his mouth.

"Why?" Severus spluttered. "Because he remembers the last few decades of our lives, which you have apparently forgotten."

"Nevertheless, Severus, you will go, and you will persuade Sirius to return to Grimmauld Place. The Order requires a safe space, and that is one of the safest in London."

A solution came to Severus, one that didn't require his involvement, and he threw it out with indecent haste. "Send the wolf."

"I did. Sirius refused to speak to him." Dumbledore frowned. "Remus will not tell me what happened between them."

"And you think I'll get a better reception than one of his oldest and dearest friends?"

"Why else would I send you?"

"You're mad."

"And, yet, you will go simply because I ask it of you."

Severus stared at him. His mouth opened and closed. And, damn it all, he couldn't come up with a single reason to refuse. He collapsed into an armchair and cradled his head. He was damned. That was all there was to it.

~*~

The good news, as far as Severus was concerned, was that the mutt was no longer in whatever tropical hellhole had spawned those flashy birds he'd been using to carry messages. With that kind of subtlety, it was hard to believe that he hadn't been caught. Even with Kingsley's able interference in the manhunt.

Not that Black's current location was much of an improvement, Severus thought, as he picked his way across a landscape that was rutted and littered with the detritus of Cromwell's marauders. A partial wall of reddish brick was all that remained of Red Bay Castle. Once the home of an escaped accused murderer, it was a fitting kennel for Sirius Black to hide in.

For once he was glad not to be wearing his protective robes. The wind that was blowing his hair around his face would have played havoc with the heavy cloth and made walking even more difficult. He paused near the edge, as far away from the Muggle family and their two bawling brats as he could get, and turned into the wind. His hair streamed behind him, and he breathed in deeply. Salt and fish and exhaust fumes from the cars that wound their way up and down the coast road.

If it weren't for his mission, for the need to not only spend time with Black but also attempt to make nice with him, Severus could have enjoyed his time on the coast of Northern Ireland. Hate really was too bland a word to describe how he felt about Sirius Black.

Severus was just beginning to relax when a loud bark lifted the hairs on the back of his neck. Nostrils flaring in distaste, he looked down to his side. The mutt was just sitting down on his haunches and raising a paw to Severus's black wool trousers.

"I wouldn't, if I were you," he warned, his tone low and silky. "Muggles castrate their pets."

The paw dropped down, and the mutt bared its teeth.

"Good doggy," Severus said, and bared his own in return.

Black's ears went back, and he growled.

The sound gave Severus goosebumps and filled him with the urge to run, as far and as fast as he could manage. But he was no longer a teenager, no longer easily frightened by man or beast. He put a hand on his wand and stood his ground. "Castration," he hissed.

Snapping his teeth, Black leapt up and ran away.

Before Severus could cast a leash spell, a high-pitched voice came from behind him. "I'd run away, too, if I were your dog."

He whipped around and found himself face to face with a teenage girl. She had light brown hair held back with a bow in the same deep blue as her antique dress and was smiling at him from her perch on the wall. A ghost, he realised; she was semi-transparent and bare-armed, neither her clothes nor her hair moving in the wind. "You need treat your dog better if you want him to like you."

"He's not my dog."

"Could have fooled me," the girl said. "And you better watch your wand around here. The locals don't hold with magic." And then she disappeared with an almost inaudible pop.

"Fuck," Severus swore. He peered over the wall, but the only people in sight were the Muggle tourists climbing into their car.

A quick examination of the surrounding area showed that Black had gone who-the-hell knew where, and Severus was alone.

"Arrogant, good-for-nothing, bastard of a wastrel." Restraining himself from using his magic to wreak destruction, he kicked at a stone. It didn't budge.

Confirming that no one else was around, he pulled out his wand, cast a protective shield to hide all traces of his magic, and blasted the bloody rock into smithereens. Then he hopped the wall, almost flying over, and went to stand on the edge of the headland. Glaring in the direction of Scotland, he cursed Albus Dumbledore, Sirius Black, Remus Lupin, and anyone else who came to mind.

~*~

"Feel better now?" Black was slouching against the broken wall, feet crossed at the ankle.

_What do you care?_ Severus thought, as he swept his eyes over Black.

A magic shield shimmered pale green around Black's very rough edges; the kind that would hide his magical signature but provide no protection from spells or fists. He was too thin, his gaunt face showing off his aristocratic bone structure. His hair was too long and horrendously tangled, his chin darkened by days of stubble, and his clothes were filthy and worn often enough to develop holes.

Severus clicked his tongue. "How the mighty have fallen."

"We can't all live off the charity of others, can we?"

Without thinking, Severus strode over to Black and seized him by the collar. The thin cloth of Black's once-white shirt parted beneath Severus's fingers. Insolent and proud as ever, Black stared directly into Severus's eyes.

The shock of actually touching Black's skin brought Severus back to his senses and returned the words that Black had stolen from him. "You'd know more about charity, than I," Severus sneered. "I earn every single thing I get, wiping the snotty noses of spoilt brats like your godson."

Black's expression changed, transforming into something Severus hadn't seen before and wasn't sure how to interpret. For a moment, Severus wondered if he'd gone too far — not that he'd take any of it back — but then Black laughed. A harsh scrape of dark humour that bore no resemblance to the gleeful laughter that had once driven Severus mad.

"Nice one, Snivellus. You almost had me going there for a moment."

Decades-old anger and resentment, stale and reeking of unwanted memories, rose up and almost swamped Severus. He shoved Black backwards, pinning him against the rough brick wall. The cough of air that rushed out of Black's lungs drew a smile from Severus. He dug his fingers into the fragile skin of Black's neck and pressed his thumbs against Black's Adam's apple, not quite choking him.

They stayed like that for long moments. Frozen. Visible to anyone who looked from the right direction, but hidden from the road.

Then Black swallowed; his Adam's apple pressed back against Severus's thumbs, and his heartbeat thumped against Severus's fingertips, steady and sure. He wasn't afraid, Severus realised, as he stared into Black's eyes. Resigned, almost hopeful, and decidedly feral, but definitely not afraid. Not lowering his gaze, barely blinking, Severus began to bear down, to close his hands, wanting to see how far Black would allow him to go.

But before he could find out, Severus's Mark burned with a Summons. The cursed heat scorched the nerve endings up and down his arm, leaving the skin hypersensitive.

Black's eyes widened. "What the fuck was that?"

Severus released Black and backed away, forcing himself not to clutch at his forearm. "What?" he gritted out.

"That heat." Black straightened himself up and took a step towards Severus. "That burning, clawing, flash of heat." He stepped closer again, reaching out a hand towards Severus's left forearm.

His touch stunned Severus into immobility. No one touched his left arm, not if they could help it, not even other Death Eaters. And, so, Severus didn't resist as Black pushed up the sleeve of his jumper, undid the buttons of his cuff, and slid his shirt sleeve up. Black's palms were chill against his overheated skin.

"Fuck." Black rolled the vowel, dragging it out. His lip curled as he stroked his thumb over the skin above the Dark Mark.

Whether he would have gone further, taken the next step, Severus would never know. The Mark sizzled to life again; Black yelped with surprise and jumped back as if he'd been stung.

Shaking off whatever Black had done to him, Severus rolled down his sleeve and began buttoning it up. "Don't think this is over," he said. "I will return, and we will have the conversation that Dumbledore ordered."

"Don't hurry on my account."

"Your _account_ is irrelevant."

Black smirked. "Tomorrow, same time, same place, then."

Stepping and turning, focussing on the destination that the Mark had burnt into his synapses, Severus allowed the crack of his Apparation to speak for him. Rudely, he hoped.

~*~

Sirius stayed where he was, not moving until the last echo of Snape's departure had dissipated. One hand rubbed at his neck, which still buzzed with the fading sensations from Snape's damned Dark Mark.

His eyes prickled as he stared out over the ocean and tried to pull together enough of the patchwork of memories left by the Dementors to remember the little brother who used to follow him around. Regulus was his name, Sirius was sure, because that was the name his mother had flung out in her frequent rants. He must have had a lot of good memories of Regulus before he walked out, before Regulus took the Dark Mark, because there was so little of him left.

Regulus had had that Mark, had suffered through that torment, and Sirius had done nothing to help him. What kind of brother had he been? To leave Regulus in that kind of pain and do nothing?

Despair filled Sirius. He hadn't changed, then. He still did nothing, helped no one. Circling both his hands around his own throat, Sirius copied Snape's actions and tried to strangle himself. But he couldn't even manage to cut off his own breathing.

"You can't kill yourself like that, silly."

Lowering his hands, Sirius made a face at the teenage ghost who was once again perched on the wall. "And you know everything do you, Mary?"

"About killing myself? Of course." Mary Bissett swung her feet, but instead of bouncing against the brick, her heels went through it. "Not that I was any more successful than you." She considered the spot where Snape had been standing, her expression thoughtful. "Or him, for that matter."

"I wouldn't worry too much about him. Snape always lands on his feet."

"Oh, I don't." Mary smiled. "He's all yours." Then she blew him a kiss and disappeared.

Consoling himself with the thought that he might be able to provoke Snape into putting him out of his misery, Sirius transformed into Padfoot and headed for his cave.

~*~

The next morning, body aching from the Dark Lord's most recent attempt to impose his idea of discipline upon the Death Eaters, Severus dragged himself out of bed. A pain potion, a muscle relaxant potion, three cups of tea, and two precisely buttered and cut slices of wholemeal toast later, Severus was ready to face the day.

This time, he transfigured his protective robes into a long overcoat and donned that before leaving Hogwarts to Apparate across the North Channel to the Antrim Coast. He also had the house-elves pack him lunch and dinner for two, along with a selection of potables. He shrunk the baskets and put them into his pockets, telling himself that it was only because Black was feeding himself — _badly_ — in mutt form and not for any other reason. Everyone, after all, fed their dogs.

~*~

The wind was colder than the day before, the air miserably damp, and the sky overcast. Black was huddled in the lee of the ruined wall. He didn't appear to be paying attention, but Severus was sure that he was fully aware of everything in the vicinity.

Pausing near a tree, Severus examined him. Black was wearing a navy blue anorak, the hood pulled up over his head, but otherwise didn't seem to have changed clothes since the previous day. The shield was a little fainter than it had been the day before, and Snape found himself wondering what, if any effect, it had on Black's magic. Although, he could obviously transform into his Animagus form, Severus thought, which meant it wasn't blocking his magic.

The teenage ghost in her blue dress appeared next to Severus. "You really shouldn't make him wait like that."

"I don't see that it is any business of yours."

"Somebody has to make it their business."

Severus frowned. "You're not making the least bit of sense."

"Aren't I?" Huffing, she crossed her arms over her chest and lifted her chin.

Severus sneered at her, refusing to dignify her question with a response.

"Just look at him," she said. "Does he look like someone who takes care of himself?"

Startled by that incomprehensible thought, Severus returned his gaze to Black. He didn't look any different than the day before. There was nothing about his appearance that couldn't be explained away by the years in Azkaban and the months as a fugitive. Severus snorted with contempt. The ghost was clearly delusional. Black was the same self-involved, narcissistic half-wit he'd always been.

He turned to say exactly that, but the ghost had disappeared. Grumbling under his breath, Severus set out across the grass. As soon as he came within twenty-five metres of the wall, Black's head snapped up, his hand went into a pocket of his anorak, and he scrambled to his feet.

Not completely defenceless, Severus noted with approval that he did not permit to show on his face.

"Black," he said, when he reached his destination.

"Snape."

They both stood and stared at each other. Black didn't give an inch, and Severus certainly wasn't going to. Until a noise caught Severus's attention, and Black's eyes widened fractionally at the same time. Severus looked over his shoulder just in time to see a horde of Muggles coming up the hill.

"Where?" he asked.

For once Black didn't argue, he simply led Severus to the other side of the wall and held out his hand. "You'll have to trust me."

Bile rose in Severus's throat at the very idea, but he gripped Black's forearm nonetheless. He had no choice. He closed his eyes as the world spun and went black.

~*~

When the world stopped whirling, Severus opened his eyes. To distract himself from the unexpected vertigo of travel that had felt more like a Portkey than Apparation, he looked around. He was in a medium-sized cave with walls of sandstone. A deep nest of rumpled bed covers in the back was the only indication that someone lived there. There were no stacks of clothing, food, bags, or bundles.

Striding over to his nest, Black tossed his anorak on the pile and sat down with his back against the wall. He stretched his legs out in front of him and crossed them at the ankles to show off the worn soles of his boots. "Welcome to my humble abode. You'll have to forgive the lack of mess. I wasn't expecting company."

"Quite," Severus said. He pulled a handkerchief out of his coat pocket and contemplated it for a moment. Then, retrieving his wand, he transfigured it into an armchair.

"Handy trick that, doing magic." Black's tone was conversational, but his words were so outrageous, so unexpected, that they took Severus's breath away. He'd barely recovered from that when Black continued, "The Aurors snapped my wand in front of me, you know. Backlash does bloody strange things to a bloke's mind."

There hadn't been a wand earlier, Severus realised. Black had got to his feet by the wall, facing the threat head-on, without any surety of being able to protect himself against it. And transported them here without one. "Explains why it didn't feel like we Apparated." He threw the words at Black like an accusation.

"Personal Portkey," Sirius replied, not rising to the bait. "Same as Squibs use. Albus made it for me. Should have one more location on it, I think. Then I'm on my own."

And that was Severus's chance. But even as he was thinking it, Severus was reaching into one of hidden pockets in his coat and retrieving his spare wand. Before he could change his mind, he tossed it over to Black. No wizard should be without a wand. The very idea was anathema to Severus.

Black caught the wand in mid-rotation. He looked at it and then at Severus, his eyebrows raised and his mouth hanging open. "Eh?"

"Padauk wood, twelve and three quarter inches, Chinese Fireball heartstring," Severus noted. "From Lee Ho Hsieng in Shanghai."

His hands obsessively fondling the dark purple-brown wood, Black asked, "Why?"

"You needed a wand. I have several unregistered spares." Making a dismissive gesture, Severus added, "Don't make me regret it."

"I'm mad, you know."

"That's hardly breaking news."

"Not everyone's as observant as you." Black hugged the wand to his chest for a few seconds; then he straightened up and placed it on the ground in front of him. He looked up at Severus. Suspicion clouded his eyes and twisted his mouth into a sneer. "What's the catch?"

Stinging from the implied insult, Severus snapped, "Ungrateful bastard. Give it back if you don't want it."

The speed at which Black snatched the wand off the ground was gratifying, but also sent Severus's anger flying even higher when he realised that he bloody well couldn't ask Black about Grimmauld Place without it sounding like a _catch_. Fucking suspicious tosser that he was.

Not that Severus would ask Black for so much as a counterfeit sickle at that moment. That would give Black the impression that he was right, which was absolutely not on. Not under any circumstances whatsoever. Black needed to be distracted before he so much as caught a whiff of the possibility, and Severus had just the thing.

He yanked the shrunken lunch basket from his pocket, placed it on the ground between them, tapped it with his wand, and then took a couple of steps back. The basket made an odd crackling noise before expanding into a small table with two chairs. The scent of roast chicken and apple pie filled the cave.

Black was at the table and eating — with one hand, since the other was still holding onto the wand — before Severus had moved. His exquisite manners had apparently been lost in Azkaban.

"Help yourself," Severus said. "Don't mind me."

"Mmph," managed Black and waved a hand at the food.

Severus sat down. "Eat it all, mutt, and I'll save dinner for myself."

Black's head snapped up, and he swallowed. "Dinner?"

"Even condemned prisoners are entitled to a last meal." Severus helped himself to a piece of chicken and some peas and carrots. "Eat up," he said, and smirked.

~*~

After lunch, Severus stood up and moved away from the table. One tap of his wand and the table, its contents, and the chairs folded themselves up and became a basket once more, dumping Black onto his arse.

After a moment of shock, Black threw back his head and laughed. "Fuck, Snape, you sure know how to show a man a good time."

"No better than you deserve," Severus harrumphed.

Black, the wanker, just laughed harder. And stretched. In a way that left Severus dry mouthed and even more annoyed.

The armchair had reverted to a handkerchief, leaving him with nothing to sit on, regretting his impulse to put away the lunch things. He considered transfiguring the basket into an armchair. However, given current run of luck, he'd probably end up with a fork or a knife sticking into his backside, and he refused to give Black the satisfaction. Instead, he put the basket back in his coat pocket, took off his coat, folded it carefully, and placed it on the cave floor. Then, he made himself as comfortable as possible.

There was a moment when Severus was sure that Black was going to say something. When a muscle in Black's jaw flexed, and he tapped the wand against his leg. But then Black went over to his nest, turned around in a circle, and went to sleep.

After contemplating — and regretfully discarding — the idea of hexing him, Severus rested his back against the rough wall and tried once again to get comfortable. After digging around in his coat and having to get comfortable all over again, he unshrunk the _Potions Annual, 1758 Edition_ and began reading.

Black would not get to him. Not with his snoring or his snuffling, not with his utterly rude behaviour, and absolutely not with his restless twitching that spoke so eloquently of bad dreams. After all, Black deserved everything life had handed out to him and more. Just like Severus did.

~*~

The sound of unfamiliar breathing woke Sirius. Low snores were interspersed with rasping breaths. Clasping his new wand a little firmer, he cracked open one eyelid. A minimum amount of shuffling enabled him to see the figure propped against the opposite wall, book open in his lap, and head drooping to one side.

Sirius stared. That Severus Snape would trust him enough to fall asleep in his presence was more than a bit mind-boggling. Then he remembered that he'd been sleeping, in front of Snape, and he sat up — as quietly as he could manage.

He held his breath as Snape stirred, then released it when he continued sleeping. Seeing the wand in his own hand, Sirius frowned. When his lack of a wand had been mentioned, Albus had ignored the hints; instead surrounding him with an anti-jinx shield that had frayed so much over the months it probably couldn't disperse a Jelly-Legs. Snivellus, on the other hand, had given him a wand, completely unprompted. What was he supposed to make of that? Nothing in his memories or in Snape's actions before handing over the wand had indicated anything resembling kindness or generosity towards him. Snape's attitude, as always, was closer to murderous.

A flicker of blue caught his attention, and he turned his head. Mary smiled at him.

"You don't hate him."

"You're sure of that, are you?" Sirius ran a hand along his new wand. It should have felt wrong, alien to his magic, but it didn't. And he really didn't want to think about that. He was mad enough as it was.

"Doesn't matter what I think." She floated upwards and tilted her head, contemplating Snape. "He sleeps funny."

"He sleeps." Sirius didn't want to put a name to the emotion he could hear in his voice, didn't want to be fucking feeling it. Not for Severus Snape.

A growl escaped him as he slunk out of his nest and crawled over to Snape. Merlin but the bastard looked like something the kneazle had dug up and dragged in. If the lines carved into his face got any deeper, or the circles beneath his eyes any blacker, Sirius wasn't sure he'd recognise him.

The fingers on Snape's left hand fluttered.

Curious, wondering if the twitches were related to the Dark Mark, Sirius crept closer. He tightened his grip on his wand, moving until he was almost on top of Snape. Until he could feel how cold Snape was. It fairly radiated off the man.

Warming charms would fix it, he thought, and aimed his wand at Snape. Time to find out if it would work for him.

Which was, of course, when Mary laughed and Snape woke up.

~*~

A high-pitched giggle made Severus open his eyes. The wandtip that immediately dug into the soft flesh beneath his chin brought him to full awareness. Black was kneeling in front of him, looming over him; so close that Black's body heat was warming Severus's chilled skin. The little ghost girl was sitting in mid-air with her feet tucked under her legs, her elbows resting on her knees, and her chin resting on her linked hands.

"You sleep funny." Giggling again, she cocked her head and considered them both. Then she stood up and walked down non-existent steps to stand next to them. Her hand, when it touched Severus's shoulder, was a sharp and painful jab of cold. Black, he noticed, turned his head towards her but didn't otherwise react to her touch — a fact that he tucked away for possible future use.

"Sanity," she said, "is highly overrated. You'll both need to remember that. And this." She dropped a painfully cold kiss on each of their noses and vanished.

As if her disappearance released him, Severus reached up with one hand to yank at Black's wand — how unbelievably stupid of him not to wait until he was leaving to give it to the ungrateful mutt — and scrabbled for his own wand with the other.

"_Expelliarmus_," Black growled.

The spell sent Severus's wand flying across the cave and knocked him off-balance. He hit the cave floor hard, and the air was pushed out of his lungs with a grunt.

"Now," snarled Black, straddling Severus's thighs, leaning down, resting one hand on Severus's right shoulder, and digging his wand a little harder into Severus's neck. "Why don't you tell me the reason Dumbledore sent you here, because I don't think it was to feed me lunch. And he definitely didn't tell you to give me a wand."

An attempt to respond left Severus choking as his Adam's apple caught on the wandtip. He sneered at Black and said nothing.

"Don't think this means I trust you." Black eased up on the pressure, but didn't move his wand away.

"Wouldn't dream of it."

Severus took stock of the situation. Black was surprisingly calm and relaxed, which was far more disturbing than his feral expression, and his grip on the wand was absolutely steady. While Black was probably rusty, he'd been a damn good dueller in his day and was likely still faster than the average wizard. Being ambidextrous gave him an interesting advantage as well.

And yet, Severus just couldn't resist provoking him. There was something about Sirius Black in a lather — the way his eyes flashed; how he cocked his hip, thrusting his pelvis forward — Severus wrenched his thoughts away, refusing to let them head any further down that path. What he needed was more information about what was going on, so he deflected Black's question, saying, "I would have assumed that Dumbledore or Lupin would have told you."

"I have about as much faith in Remus—" Black's tone coated the name with disgust "—as he had in me. And I do remember that much." An odd expression crossed Black's face, almost contemplative, but before Severus could come up with an insult designed to determine _exactly_ what he meant by that, Black continued, "As for Dumbledore... his owl said he was sending someone to talk to me." He shrugged. "Didn't think you'd be here to tell me about Harry's marks."

"Abysmal," Severus snorted. "Like his father, he does no more than the minimum."

"That's not what Minerva told me."

"Minerva doesn't have him for Potions."

"Well, if it's just Potions..."

Severus lost the thread of his blistering retort when Black licked his lips in anticipation. That tongue, sweeping over those lips — Severus blinked, regaining his ability to think and losing the urge to bite Black's tongue to make him stop. Instead, he cleared his throat and said, in as disinterested a tone as he could manage, "Dumbledore wants Grimmauld Place."

Black's reaction was instantaneous and utterly unexpected. He bent right down until his face was an inch or so from Severus's, and snarled, "No. How many fucking times do I have to tell him? No, no, and hell, no."

The wand dug into Severus's flesh deeper and harder, but Severus didn't try to respond. He simply waited, knowing that Black wasn't finished ranting.

"It's poison, that house. Pure unadulterated poison. You're a Potions master. You'll see. Nothing survives. Everything twists and warps. Whipped into shape if it doesn't obey. Curse it. Hex it. Whatever it takes. Her. Will. Be. Done." With each of the last words, Sirius jabbed the wand and choked Severus with it.

"_Enough_." Severus placed his feet flat on the floor and shoved his torso upwards, unseating Black. They rolled and rolled, Severus trying to direct them towards his wand. Black moved constantly, rubbing and pressing himself against Severus, until Severus had no choice but to make him stop.

He pinned Black beneath him, using his legs and arms to try and keep him in one place and make him _stop_. But Black continued writhing, ranting, rubbing. And Severus needed to do _something_. Taking a chance, Severus released one of Black's arms and grabbed for his own wand, which was only inches away. Black's fist caught him in the ribs as he cast the spell that wound hemp rope around Black's arms and yanked them above his head, tying them together and sticking them to the sandstone. Perfect, really, Severus couldn't help thinking as he admired the way it stretched the muscles of Black's torso. The only thing that might have made it better was if Black had lost his wand, but it was trapped in the rope, with Black's fingers curled awkwardly around it, holding it in place.

After a pause, just long enough for Severus to consider relaxing, Black started fighting again. He banged his head against the rock floor, thrust his hips up, and dropped them down, again and again, trying to buck Severus off. And merely succeeded in making Severus's cock twitch and harden. Which was _not_ on.

"Stop it." To give himself better leverage and balance, Severus slid down to put the bulk of his weight on Black's upper thighs. "Black."

"No. No. No." Black redoubled his efforts. "I promised. Kept my promise. Not this. Promised."

"Fucking mutt." Black just couldn't cooperate to save his life, could he? The situation going from bad to worse, Severus discarded the idea of pinning Black's legs to the ground with the same spell. With no other ideas, he commanded, "Heel."

And Black subsided. His eyes were wild, his chest was heaving, and he was as hard as a rock — as hard as Severus himself. "Bugger off, Snape."

This time when Black bucked, their cocks slid against each other. The fabric of their trousers dragged, vibrating through Severus. The strength of his own reaction dragged a groan out of him, and he stilled. Need ached in the back of his throat, twitched through his bollocks. It's the mutt, he reminded himself, but his cock, his want, his libido, didn't care. He should care, though. _Shouldn't he?_

"Bugger off or stop thinking."

Before Severus could formulate a response, Black moved, throwing him forward. That was the only reason they kissed, Severus was sure as he bit at Black's lips, sucked on Black's tongue. As he ground his arse down on the hardness of Black's erection.

And it felt good, damn good, better than good, but not enough, nowhere near enough. A groan escaped from Severus, and he pulled back from that not-kiss.

"Want me to fuck you?" Black whispered. "Want to sit on me and feel me deep inside you?"

Severus wanted to say no, he did, but his traitorous cock had other ideas.

"Can you feel it?" Black raised his hips and twisted his cock against Severus's arse. "How thick it is? How big?"

"You expect me to be impressed?"

"I _expect_ you to fuck yourself on me, to feel, to make me feel." Black licked his damnable lips again. "It's been so long, Snape, so fucking long. You want me to beg?"

An image of Black, kneeling before him, paws up and tongue lolling, flashed through Severus's mind. It was surprisingly repulsive.

"Or would you prefer that I do this." Stretching his arms until his hands could move freely, despite the rope, Black moved his fingers and his wand in a familiar pattern, murmured a familiar word, and their clothes were Banished to the other side of the cave. Another pattern, another word, and Severus felt his arse being stretched and slicked.

Severus's pulse thudded, and he gripped Black's sides in an effort not to tug on his own cock. He ground down, until Black's cock was sliding between his arse cheeks and against his cleft. He threw his head back and groaned at the wonderful heat and hardness, the dampness of the precome. He couldn't stop himself, couldn't say no. It had been so damn long since he'd felt. And he deserved this.

"Fuck me, Snape." Black tugged against the rope that bound his hands and undulated his hips in a most wonderful way. "Release me or fuck yourself on my cock. Drive me inside you, damn it."

Severus didn't. He just kept moving, drawing moans and curses out of Black's filthy mouth every time the head of his cock caught on Severus's hole. Over and over again until Black, in a voice so hoarse it was barely unrecognisable, said, "Please?" The _fucking bastard_ that followed was almost forgivable, considering the pleasure it gave Severus to drive Black to that edge.

"Say it again," Severus said, bending down and biting Black's earlobe.

There was a moment, a nanosecond, when Severus thought he'd gone too far, that he'd lose by winning, but then Black hissed, "Please."

And Severus reached back and grasped Black's cock, raising his hips and then dropping them down. The burn of penetration was pleasure and pain and ecstasy.

Black's hips rammed up, and his chest arched, and he howled.

Severus lifted himself up and slid back down, twisting himself until Black's cock hit his prostate. Again and again. Faster and faster. Until everything he knew was that cock, and his arse, and the feel of Black's skin beneath his nails.

"Touch yourself," Black said without slowing his thrusts. "Show me what you do to yourself."

There was blood on his fingertips; Severus used it and his own precome to slick himself. He tugged and pulled, pumped and squeezed, rubbing his thumb over the head. And the want and the ache and the _feeling_ grew until his bollocks tightened and drew up, and he clenched his muscles around Black, and he aimed his cock at Black's face. And he came and fucking came, spurting on Black's face and neck and chest.

And Black moaned and drove his hips upwards and shuddered, even as he licked Severus's semen off his lips.

Afterwards, Severus sat there, feeling Black soften inside him, and tried to catch his breath. He raked his sweat-soaked hair out of his face and did his best not to think about what he'd just done. What he knew he'd do again given even half a chance.

~*~

After they'd separated, gathered up their wands and their clothes, Severus turned his back on Black and used charms to clean himself thoroughly before dressing. When he was done, and his shirt was buttoned up and the crease on his trousers properly centred over his boots, Severus reached over and pulled on his overcoat, relaxing when the built-in protections settled over him.

Putting his hands in the pockets, he encountered the dinner basket. He tossed it over at Black, who caught it without moving his gaze from Severus.

"Just a tap and the usual unshrinking," Severus said, returning his hands to his pockets.

"You're not half-bad, either," Black acknowledged. "Tell Dumbledore I'll do it, but you have to take me there. I'm not returning without someone I trust at my back."

The man really was insane, Severus thought. Arching an eyebrow, he scoffed, "You trust _me_?"

"You're the devil I know." Sauntering forwards, Black slid a hand down his own still-bare chest then paused and tapped his finger on Severus's lips. "You're the closest thing to a true friend I've got these days. The kind who'd stab me in the front, if you decided it needed doing. And you're the only one in the Order who's strong enough and dark enough to stand up to what's in that house."

And that, Severus thought as he prepared to Apparate away, was the strangest compliment he'd ever received.

~fin~


End file.
